


Yours

by pinkoptics



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: But so will Erik, Charles You Slut, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Jealous Erik, M/M, Possessive Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 00:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11840625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkoptics/pseuds/pinkoptics
Summary: Charles knows that Erik is protective of the things that he owns. His clothes are always immaculately presented, his suitcase is neatly ordered, and his words are carefully spoken. It's a meticulousness that borders on obsession, but what concern is it of his? It isn't, not until Charles begins to realise that there's other things that Erik feels like he owns...





	Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deeranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by this prompt from [deeranger](http://deeranger.tumblr.com) on tumblr: "Erik and Charles are at bar, partying and getting drunk and giddy. But then Erik gets convinced that Charles is flirting with someone other than him...."
> 
> Given who I was writing for... well, it took a turn toward smut. And somehow, I'm sure she won't mind. *g*
> 
> Finally, a shout out to [FuryRed](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryRed/) for the beta!

“We're leaving.”

Though Erik had only spoken two words, it took Charles a few moments to fully process what he had said. It was then that Charles realized he was rather more drunk than he had intended to be. There was the glass of expensive scotch he and Erik had started with, as was their tradition after a successful recruitment, then there had been a couple (maybe several?) pints of ale, followed by… had they been doing tequila shots? God, they had, hadn't they?

“Leaving?” Charles finally managed.

“Yes, now.”

There was a sharpness to Erik’s eyes and tone that Charles had come to associate with imminent danger. Years of tracking Nazis and Shaw had honed Erik’s senses so keenly that Charles had learned that, even when Erik was three sheets to the wind- and oh was he _drunk_ , Erik had matched him glass for glass, shot for shot- Erik still somehow managed to be on high alert. For his part, Charles’ telepathy was always as embarrassingly fuzzy as the rest of his mind when he was inebriated, so he couldn't pick up the specific threat perceived by Erik’s mind or the others around them. However, in this, he trusted Erik implicitly.

“Of course.” Charles grasped the coat he'd slung over the back of the chair and made effusive but swift apologies to the company at their table. The women cooed out their disappointment in their delightful Southern twang and Erik and Charles were out the door.

They stumbled- well, Charles stumbled- Erik somehow managed to stride determinedly a few blocks (it was entirely unfair how well he kept his faculties about him while smashed) before Charles spoke up. “What was it, Erik?”

Erik’s response was non-verbal. He grasped a handful of Charles’ shirtfront and hauled him bodily into a dark alleyway.

“Erik! What the bloody hell-- ?”

Whatever Charles had been planning to say was abruptly cut off by Erik pressing him up against the brick wall of one of the buildings with enough force to steal his breath. Before Charles could protest the manhandling, or even ask again what the blazes was going on, Erik’s mouth came down hard upon his own. Erik kissing him was itself no surprise, but Erik kissing him outside the very private confines of a motel room rocked him.

Erik’s mouth demanded compliance with an immediate, bruising intensity. Erik was not asking permission, Charles was being taken. His blood blazed as Erik’s tongue claimed every bit of his mouth with such fervour all Charles could do was whimper and grasp fistfuls of Erik's shirtfront in a weak attempt to gain some sort of balance. Charles felt as though he'd never been kissed, not really, not before now.

Charles did not have the time nor the semblance of coherent thought to reflect on where such ferocity had come from. Erik was pulling back, leaving Charles' mouth feeling tender and used, the only sound between them the gasping of their breath. Erik’s hands, which had been boxing him in against the rough brick, came to tangle in his hair, tugging his head back so that their eyes were forced to lock.

_“Mine.”_

The word and it's accompanying tone would have been enough to make desire pool in Charles’ groin, but the animalistic possessiveness that washed over him in a flash flood of naked emotion had him so hard so fast that Charles found himself making a sound just as animalistic in response- he keened.

Before Charles even registered it happening his belt was undoing itself, his zipper was coming down, and Erik’s hand was shoving its way forcefully into his underwear, gripping his cock with such tightness there was an edge of pain to it.

_“Mine.”_

Charles keened again as Erik started to stroke- too hard, too rough, perfect.

Charles tried, half-heartedly, to spare some sort of thought for decency, for propriety. "Erik-- people… people will see.”

Erik replied with: “Then make sure they don't,” before he claimed Charles’ mouth again. Charles reached out, messily turning everyone's attention in any direction but theirs. The total lack of finesse likely had each mind in the vicinity going home with a headache. Normally, Charles wouldn't do this, would care that he was manipulating minds for such an unseemly purpose- getting off in a dark alleyway.

He didn't.

All that mattered was that his happened. This finished.

Erik’s possessiveness flowed around him, gripping his mind as tightly as his hand gripped his cock.

Erik.

He was Erik’s. _God_ , he was Erik’s.

Whatever sounds he was making stilled Erik’s hand and mouth. “Am I hurting you?” Flickers of concern insinuated themselves, violating the perfection, the purity, of Erik's base emotions. They couldn't have that.

Charles breathed. “Don't stop.” A beat. “ _Please_.”

He couldn't make out Erik’s expression in the darkness, but he felt it- need, hunger. Then Erik began moving his hand again and that was the last coherent thought Charles had. He gave himself over completely to sensation, losing himself to Erik- Erik’s need, Erik’s hand, Erik’s possessiveness.

_“Yours, yours, yours.”_

Was he thinking it? Saying it? Projecting it?

It didn't seem to matter because however Charles was doing it, Erik heard. His grip tightened impossibly further. Pain and pleasure blurring into something Charles couldn't begin to try to name. He'd never felt like this. God, could he even come like this?

“Yes.” Erik’s mouth had moved to nip at Charles’ ear. “You will. You will come for me. Fuck. I can feel it. Feel you. You're right there. Let go. You're mine, Charles, let go.”

Another stroke. Twist. Erik’s thumb swiping over the sensitive head of Charles’ cock. Tongue and teeth scraping at the sensitive juncture of Charles’ neck and shoulder.

“Come.”

Erik bit down and the world blanked out.

Awareness came back slowly. The first thing Charles registered was that he was trembling, utterly wrung out. Someone was supporting his weight- Erik. Right. He was wrapped in Erik’s arms. He was sore. His neck stung. Erik’s tongue was doing nothing to alleviate it the sting, keeping the minor wound abraded. Erik had broke skin. None of this belied the contentment that was flowing between them both. Was it his or Erik’s? Both? Charles’ voice returned to him last. It was rough, as though he'd screamed. He probably had.

“Erik? What the-- what… Good lord, what was that?”

Erik said nothing, but he didn't need to. At some point, Charles had twisted up their minds and he was still there, drifting on the surface of Erik's. There was mild chagrin. A fuzzy series of images and feelings, smudged by alcohol. The women sitting with them. The women buying them shots. Too forward. Their adoration of Charles’ accent. Charles’ smiles and laughter and charm. Their giggles and smiles in return. Touches on forearms. An even fuzzier image of Charles entwined in bed with the more buxom brunette. Bodies moving in an unmistakable rhythm.

Jealousy. Searing. Scalding. So hot the air around them should have burned.

“Oh Erik,” Charles murmured and deftly moulded the image to something much better. The brunette became Erik, positions reversed, the movement became more aggressive- wrists pinned, Erik fucking him into the mattress as roughly and unforgivingly as he'd just handled Charles' cock.

_I think I need to be shown again, whom I belong to. You need to take me back to the hotel and fuck me until I need to come up with embarrassing reasons as to why we have to postpone recruitment for a day, because I can't walk._

Erik’s arms tightened around him with a low growl.

“As you wish.”

Erik bit down on the same sensitive spot on Charles’ neck, the sting intensifying, prompting Charles’ cock to show renewed interest faster than he would have thought possible.

“ _Yours._ ”

Erik’s body, his hardness, rocked into Charles’ and he wondered if they wouldn't make it back to the hotel at all.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I does not matter how long it’s been since I wrote this, every comment is treasured like the gift that it is :). 
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://pinkoptics.tumblr.com) for more Cherik!


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